


Omni Trium Perfectum

by second_hand_heaven



Category: DCU
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Bruce Wayne, Captain Marvel - Freeform, Cunnilingus, F/M, Fingering, Hal Jordan - Freeform, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Praise Kink, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M, Top Clark Kent, Top Diana, Trinity (DCU), but a little plot?, poly trinity, the plot is for the porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-08 09:33:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13455444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/second_hand_heaven/pseuds/second_hand_heaven
Summary: Bruce Wayne has a tactician's mind. He understands numbers, ratios, statistics and the like better than most. But in the bedroom? It takes a while for the calculations to compute.In which Bruce realises that sex, love, and relationships are as easy as one, two, three.A Bruce-centric Trinity get-together fic, told through three sex scenes.





	Omni Trium Perfectum

**Author's Note:**

> After watching Justice League, I discovered there is not enough poly trinity out there, and took it upon myself to rectify that. This is the result.
> 
> Title translates as "Everything that comes in threes is perfect," or, "every set of three is complete." It sums up the trinity's dynamic perfectly.

* * *

 One

* * *

 

He arrives back at the cave later than usual, but his skin is still alight with an unrestrained energy. It's not unusual, but this isn't something he can ignore. It won't dissipate with the right amount of pull-ups, or a scotch or three.

He peels himself out of the Batsuit, already half hard, and heads up to his room.

 

A shower, the water alternating between scalding hot and frigid, does nothing to dissuade the ache.

God, he hasn't felt like this since his first month as the Bat. The itch of adrenaline, and something else, has worked itself under his skin. He steps out of the ensuite, hair still wet, and pads across the carpet to his bed.

 

Spread out, alone in his bed that's much too big for only him, he scratches that itch.

 

He grasps himself, slowly fucking into his fist.

Images zip through his mind: past encounters, porn videos, League members-

He cuts himself off. It's… unprofessional. It's wrong.

It's also desperately arousing.

He tosses the thought away, instead electing to focus on the sensation of his hands on his body.

 

Adding more lube, he slicks up his other hand. It skitters down his stomach, bypassing his otherwise occupied cock, and circles his hole. He presses one, then two fingers in, rougher than he'd be if it were anyone but himself. Tonight, he needs rough. Quick and dirty, then a few hours of sleep. That's what he needs.

He adds another finger, releasing his dick to add more lube to his other hand.

He considers whether his whole fist would be accomplishable tonight, before deciding against it.

He fucks into his hand lazily, timing the thrusts with those of his fingers.

The last time he fisted himself like this, Clark caught him the next day. The Kryptonian was tripping over himself with worry that Batman was _injured._

 

Wouldn't it be nice if Clark would _injure_ him? Would Diana kiss it better?

What would it be like, between-

He comes, caught off guard by his orgasm.

 

It's mild, lacking any real build-up. He contemplates going again, but the guilt at that _fantasy_ keeps his dick softening. He shouldn't, can't think those things. Not about his… friends.

 

The itch is scratched. For now.

 

He wipes his stomach and hands down with a washcloth, before falling into a pitiful sleep.

 

* * *

 Two

* * *

 

Bruce Wayne's master bedroom feels empty, despite to the two bodies currently occupying it.

Diana clings to him, fingers in his hair, thighs around his neck. He's got two fingers and his tongue in her, and she's coming apart beautifully. He wants to see it, to watch his handiwork written across her face.

But her thighs, those powerful thighs that have taken down countless assailants, keep him in place.

 

Her hands tighten in his hair, painfully, and he moans, rutting into the mattress. She's always a touch rough with him, just like he needs.

 

The vibrations set her off, and she pants out her release as praise of Bruce's tongue.

She guides him up on his knees, tells him how to touch himself.

She knows just what he needs, and he comes across her thighs and stomach.

 

Bruce never could vocalise his desires, his needs. Not as a child, and certainly not now. Needs are weaknesses, easily exploited, even by a team member-cum-bedfellow.

 

But Diana's patient with him, more patient than any other partner he's been with. She learns his body, its scars and its spasms and its signs. She reads him, like his body is just another language she happens to know, like Sanskrit or Gaelic or ASL. She knows what he needs, almost better than he does.

 

There's… not problems, exactly, but constraints, with their arrangement. It's hard to get the two if them in the same place at once. Diana only comes with a mouth on her. Bruce needs something up his ass. And sometimes he needs it all.

 

They manage. The sex is good, of course it is. They both have an understanding of the deep core of pleasure.

It's awkward angles and sweaty ‘almost there's, but it's breathtakingly good nonetheless.

 

They make it work, this thing between them, and it's something Bruce would never surrender, no matter the fear that plagues him at this… attachment. It's not just sex, it never was, but the unspoken sentiment between them remains just that, unspoken.

 

 _“It would be easier with another person,”_ Diana joked, offhandedly during one of their more… exasperating endeavours.

Bruce needed the noise fucked out of his head, needed his face buried between sweet folds, between ass cheeks, between something. He needed it all because it was all too much and he just wanted to come apart.

He didn't tell Diana any of that, not until later.

But that thought, the practicality of another person's presence, it stays with him.

 

Bruce doesn't let it go.

 

Now, as he cleans the sleepy Amazon of his -their- mess, a thought strikes him. He knows what they need- _who_ they need.

He pictures the three of them laid out in his bed, cuddling, fucking, kissing, sleeping. And Bruce, he wants that. Desperately. The thought of being caught between two superhuman lovers, between an Amazon and a hard place, makes his spent dick twitch.

 

Tomorrow, he’ll tell her. He knows she'll agree. They know each other too well. She knows his wants as much as he knows hers.

 

Tomorrow, then. But now, he watches her peaceful smile. Diana sleeps, but Bruce cannot follow. He's got plans to make.

 

* * *

 Three

* * *

 

Bruce formulates numerous plans and contingencies before he and Diana approach Clark. Diana rolls her eyes at him, but he knows that she's as nervous as he is.

 

The Watchtower is quiet as the duo zeta’s in. Bruce figured it to be the best setting to ask.

Neutral and familiar territory, the Watchtower places them all on an equal level. 

 

They find him in the rec room, teaching the finer points of essay writing to an eager Captain Marvel.

Jordan, the only other Leaguer, nods in their direction as they enter, before returning his focus to his coffee and the trash novel on his glowing construct tablet.

 

Marvel blushes, hastily bids a retreat as Bruce and Diana approach Clark's table. They make an imposing pair, but they're about to change that. A trio -a trinity- would be much more formidable.

 

The words were pre-planned, purposefully simple and straightforward. Diana had rehearsed the script with him over and over.

 

He'd expected a no, which should have been telling; Clark always has a way of surprising him.

Eyes wide and tragically hopeful, Clark throws Bruce's contingencies out the Watchtower's air lock with a smile.

“This isn't a one-time thing, is it?” Clark asks, a little timidly.

“No, Kal,” Diana assures, using the same tone she used when she first approached Bruce, “we both want this.” She reaches for Clark's hands, and Bruce follows suit.

“If you do,” Bruce adds, wishing the Watchtower floor would swallow him up before he has to talk about his _feelings_ anymore. “We want this, if you do. This is on your terms, Clark.”

He nods, a little lost for words. Bruce gives his hand a squeeze.

 

“Hey Hal,” Clark calls over his shoulder to the Green Lantern, “can you pick up my monitor duty tonight?”

“Why,” Hal grins at the heroes over the rim of his coffee mug, “got a date?”

Bruce and Diana tense, ready for all fight. Bruce's privacy is something he'd die for. So are Diana and Clark.

Clark chuckles and the pair, “something like that.”

“Sure, man. I haven't got anything better to do.”

With a few taps at his tablet, he accesses the logs. He's about to change his and Clark's monitor duty, when he shoots a knowing wink in Bruce's direction.

Hal doesn't change the entry in the roster. He doesn't have to. It seems someone already has.

 

. . .

 

Whatever preconceptions Bruce has about Clark and Diana in his bed evaporate the moment the trio enter his bedroom.

 

Stripped naked, Bruce is thrown down on the mattress by Clark, as if they were sparring in the Watchtower’s gym.

He's not caught off guard by it. He's not.

But his breath quickens all the same. Clark and Diana shed their armour, their uniforms, and Bruce doesn't know where to look. He must admit, though, the view is pretty nice.

 

And then Diana's on him, all hands and lips, and Bruce's legs part unconsciously.

She shuffles lower on the bed now that's she's been given space.

Her hair tickles his inner thighs, and laughter threatens to emerge from behind his bitten lips. She kisses down the V of his hips, and the laugh turns to a moan as she licks a stripe down to his balls.

 

Clark joins her, stubble scraping over the inside of Bruce's thigh. It's utterly tantalizing, and so _damn frustrating._

Lubed fingers circle, then press into him one at a time, and he gives up on stifling his pleasure. He moans as the fingers curl inside him. They're much too broad to belong to Diana, and both of her hands are already holding him wide apart. There's so many hands on him, and it's delicious.

 

They lick and kiss and stroke him until he's a mess, strung out against his 3000 thread count sheets.

“So good, B.” Clark's voice is rougher than usual, and it sends a jolt to Bruce's stomach. “You're so good for us, all spread out like this.” And Clark must have picked up on the way his heart rate spikes at Clark's praise.

Clark nips at the juncture between his thigh and pelvis. “So good.”

He could come like this, he thinks, and the thought is as heady as his partners’ ministrations.

 

“Diana,” he rasps, earning a hum from the Amazon, “let me get my mouth on you.”

She crawls up the bed, and seats herself on Bruce's face.

Clark’s got three fingers in Bruce's ass, twisting and curving as they fuck into him.

Hips grinding down on him, Diana's teasing him.“He's going to fuck you, Bruce. Are you ready?”

He taps her right thigh three times, an unspoken assent for when is mouth is… otherwise indisposed. He speeds up his licks, adds a finger to the mess between her thighs and his face.

 

Clark's fingers move, leaving him empty. He whines, but Diana placates him with a hush.

“I know how long you've waited for him.” Her words are low, richly decadent. “You won't have to wait any longer.”

 

The blunt head of Clark's cock presses against his hole and Bruce positively _mewls_ into Diana. He smiles as he feels he clenching around his finger.

Clark presses forward, finally entering him, and Bruce is in _bliss._

 

Diana gushes across his chin as she climaxes, then chases a second for good measure. Bruce works her through the aftershocks. Clark's hips press against his thighs with each thrust and Bruce feels utterly wrecked beneath the pair.

“So good, Bruce. You're taking this so well.”

Diana’s hips rock upwards, over-sensitive, giving Bruce the chance to pant out, “harder.

Clark pulls out and growls, “I'll give you harder.”

 

Sliding off Bruce's face, Diana settles back against the head of the bed.

Clark rolls Bruce onto his stomach, and Diana places a pillow beneath his hips. He rests his head against Diana's splayed thighs, panting as she cards her hands through his damp hair.

Clark slides back into him, hitting his prostate again and again. He's moaning, slamming forward into Diana's lap.

“Come for me, darling,” Diana coos, and Bruce isn't sure who she means, but it's Clark who comes at the command, with lips at Bruce's neck.

 

And Bruce, surrounded by and utterly immersed in the power and _care_ of his lovers, murmurs “ _God_ ,” and finds his release...

 

There's movement in the bed beside him, a toilet flushing and then there's a washcloth gently sliding across his mouth, his stomach, his ass. Bruce blinks owlishly up at Clark, who grins, eyes shining down at him with something Bruce can't name right now. Diana returns, pressing soft kisses to Bruce's jaw.

He tries to say something, anything, but Clark and Diana seem to understand.

 

“Go to sleep, B,” Clark murmurs, already half asleep himself, “we'll be here in the morning.”

Diana tugs the covers up, and she and Clark snuggle against Bruce.

 

Flanked on either side by two of the world's most powerful beings, Bruce sleeps, feeling safer than he ever thought possible.

 

_FIN_

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed. Comments and kudos are much appreciated.
> 
> Come chat with me about the trinity, or anything really, at my [tumblr](https://second-hand-heaven.tumblr.com/)
> 
> -Nova xx


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